Killian Meets Modernity
by SnappleApple11
Summary: Because explaining the 21st century to a 300-year-old pirate is entirely too entertaining a concept to pass up. Capt. Swan et al. one-shots chronicling Killian's encounters with modernity. Mostly Captain Swan but will also include other characters too. Updates will come irregularly with inspiration and requests. Rated M for future chapters.
1. Grease Trap

**Because explaining the 21****st**** century to a 300-year-old pirate is entirely too entertaining a concept to pass up. Capt. Swan et al. one-shots chronicling Killian's encounters with modernity. Mostly Captain Swan but will also include other characters too. Rated M for future chapters. **

Occurs in some semi-canon/semi-altered universe where Emma and Killian can cross the town line without consequence. Un-beta'd

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"Swan, what did you say this behemoth was called?"

"It's basically just a hamburger, like the ones at Granny's, but a lot greasier. Try it. I think you might like it."

It was Saturday night, and Emma had taken advantage of the rare quiet moment that came in the aftermath of defeating a villain or stopping another curse, to introduce Killian to an aspect of her world not available within the confines of Storybrooke; Fast food.

"You like the French fries at Granny's, I just thought you should have the total fast food experience."

Emma watched her pirate stare at the edible heart attack in front of him curiously and tried not to let her lips curl into a smile. There was something oddly fascinating about the sheer range of Killian's reactions to parts of her world. At times he was more than eager to embrace the unfamiliar, like when it involved television or especially her lingerie. Other times, his wariness reminded her of a child poking vegetables on their dinner plate.

Killian Jones could stand against dark magic and monsters literally single-handed, but faced with a double-decker bacon hamburger with all the trimmings, which was about half the size of his face, he was at a loss. As it was, he was holding the monster of a burger in his hand, turning it in every direction, searching for some weak point at which to attack the thing. The burger attacked first though, taking advantage of Killian's hesitance to drip a line of grease down his hand and into his sleeve, forcing him to lift his elbow to prevent a further assault on his jacket.

Even Emma would admit that it was probably a bit much for his first real burger outside of Granny's, but the look of utter and adorable confusion on his face was worth it, as would be his delight if he would just try a bite of the damn thing.

"I'll be honest with you love, the food at Granny's may not be entirely edible but it is certainly more approachable. With this… I'm not entirely sure where to begin. You're certain no cutlery is required for something this large?"

The corner of Emma's mouth turned upward. There was an obvious joke here about who should be asking who if they could handle something that _large_, but she didn't want to be the one to actually say it so explicitly. "What's the matter, Captain? Can't handle it?"

Blue eyes met green in playful challenge, and paused for only a beat. "Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it," He said, eyes sparkling in memory of the last time he had spoken those words to her. Blue eyes held hers long enough to make her breathing quicken, and she found she didn't want to leave his gaze, just wanted to drown in the ocean of his eyes. It shouldn't have sent heat tumbling through her or made her toes curl (They were talking about a burger for crying out loud!), but it did and damn him for it because he knew. His growing smirk was proof enough of that.

Then suddenly he was leaning back in his chair, and the spell he held over her was broken, leaving her blinking back to normal thought. "Because really, Swan, if you wanted to prove this meal was so incredible you should have gotten one for yourself too. It's hardly motivating when your sandwich is, well, frankly its tiny." He spoke almost flippantly, as if he hadn't just been branding her with his eyes.

Emma, however, had no regrets in ordering a classic single layer burger. They were far more manageable. She took a bite from her own burger, hoping it would quell the growing heat in her belly and maybe encourage Killian to try his meal instead of staring at it like it was possibly poisonous.

"Maybe try smooshing it down a bit or something?" She offered, after swallowing a large bite of her burger. "Or if you really wanna cheat through it, you could take apart the layers and use a fork, but where's the fun in that?"

Killian gave the burger another turn in his wrist, which was more awkward than anything else given his elbow was still level with his head. He seemed to be considering this stance on 'cheating', but continued to stare at the innocuous-looking meal as he questioned Emma further.

"So if it's a 'ham' burger than the meat must come from a pig, yes? Ham is still used to imply pork-based dishes in this realm, is it not?"

"Well, the bacon is from a pig, obviously, but that's not on every burger. The actual hamburger part is beef."

He snorted at that. "Well that's just bloody misleading then. Why not simply call it a 'beef' burger instead? Why lie about the source of the meat?" Killian scoffed, and then turned his gaze towards Emma in horrified realization. "The cows of this realm aren't diseased, are they Swan? Is that why they lie about the name?"

Emma had to stop herself from bursting out laughing. Instead, she settled for shoulder shaking, closed-mouthed giggles and forced breaths that threatened to break her.

She had no idea why it was so funny to her, just that it was. Something in her pirate's concerns about the health of cows and sanitation of meat in a grimy fast food chain and people being lied to through the names of food was just plain funny. If this was how Killian Jones reacted to a burger, she couldn't wait to show him Disney movies.

Killian's blue eyes shifted from horror at the origins of his dinner to confusion over his Swan's apparent amusement.

"Killian, I think you're gonna have a coronary before you catch mad cow from this burger." Her words were forced passed still trembling lips and hiccupping shoulders.

"Mad cow?"

"Never mind," She said, finally catching her breath, "Just know that it's not bologna and take a damn a bite."

Killian shot her another heated look. "I'll certainly take a _bite_, love," His lips turned upward into a cheeky grin "Unless you'd rather my mouth was… elsewhere." His eyes drifted lazily down her front, until they were practically boring a hole through the table that hid her lower half from his view, then they snapped up to hold her green eyes captive in invitation and challenge.

Emma could feel the heat rising to her cheeks again.

Trust Killian Jones to feel like he was on solid ground when innuendos were involved. She had long since realized that the comments were his way of maintaining control in situations he was unfamiliar with. He used his silver tongue as a weapon as often as he used his hook or sword and after several hundred years the comments had probably become something of a habit as much as a crutch for the man.

All the same, Emma silently hoped he never learned about 'that's what she said' jokes.

His blue eyes flashed with heat, and promise, and _later_, and finally, _finally_, he took a bite from the monstrous burger. It was impossible to get a whole bite from a burger as big as the one Killian was eating, but he managed a mouthful of meat and bacon and cheese and grease that ran down his chin and got caught in the scruff of his beard.

It was a complete and total mess of a meal, but watching his face light up with every bite like a Christmas tree (Another tradition she would have to introduce him to, along with hanging mistletoe…) would be worth the twenty or so napkins needed to clean him up.

"This is bloody brilliant Swan!" He exclaimed through another mouthful. "We must bring some back with us. For your parents, and brother, and Henry! Yes, the lad would adore this! Has he had one? No matter, he's getting one too."

Emma didn't bother trying to hide the smile that had plastered itself to her face, letting it shine in mutual enjoyment at Killian's obvious delight. "Trust me, Henry's had plenty of these in New York, and I kinda doubt Regina would want him having more of them. They're not exactly health food."

Killian polished off the remainder of the monstrous burger all too quickly, and insisted on buying several more of the double-decker giants to bring back to Storybrooke. Emma laughed and weakly protested that the burgers would be cold by the time they returned to town, but gave him some money for more anyway. She watched him bound off to the counter eagerly while she finished her burger with a bit more patience.

Several other patrons were staring at the two of them as if they'd sprouted wings from their heads. It probably wasn't everyday that any of them saw a grown man eat his first heart attack on a plate, so the odd looks were at least somewhat understandable. But Emma couldn't find it in herself to care what any of them thought. She was here to share a delicious, if decidedly unhealthy, part of her world with the man who had given up his world for her. After everything he had been through in his long life, his current excitement was infectious and made her happy. Why wouldn't she want that for him?


	2. Downward Dog

Mary Margaret introduces Emma to yoga, and Killian is more than happy to help her deal with the aches and pains that come with it. Smut with minor plot.

Please read and review, and message me with any prompts or ideas you think of for what modernities Killian should see!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except the textbooks my alma mater wouldn't buy back from me after I graduated college.

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Emma had never been one for yoga. She could understand why people liked it but the practice never held any real appeal or benefit for her. In her bail bonds days, any sort of exercise Emma did was to ensure she'd be ready catch a perp, and nowadays it was to ensure the defeat of any villain that came stomping around Storybrooke. Having the limberness of a yogi didn't seem to fit into either of those categories, and she had simply ignored the practice entirely. But somehow Mary Margaret had managed to track down a yoga videotape in a town full of fairytale characters, and wanted to add it to her post-pregnancy fitness routine.

And she wanted Emma to join her on this quest for flexibility.

Emma didn't have the heart to turn her down.

The pair had spent the next afternoon in Mary Margaret's apartment dressed in leggings and t-shirts, following the movements of a tiny, innocuous, and yet almost grotesquely bendy, woman who insisted they "find their center", and "let peace fill their mind", while simultaneously working them to the bone and forcing them to fold their bodies into pretzels. Emma swore if the yoga instructor made them "chataranga" (whatever the hell that even meant) from downward dog into upward dog one more time she would break the damn videotape in half and hurl it straight into the wall. Although frankly, she didn't think she'd be able to move her arms above her head any time soon, let alone do any hurling.

By the end of the tape, both Mary Margaret and Emma were more than grateful for the chance to lie down and untangle their limbs. Emma's muscles were groaning in complaint at the yoga-induced abuse, but she recognized it to be a similar ache to any other long workout. It was the kind of exhaustion that slowed a person for several hours but ultimately could be overcome with a little rest and food.

Her limbs and joints, on the other hand, were another story.

Mary Margaret imagined it to be the same feeling as being stretched on the rack in a medieval torture. Emma couldn't be bothered to verbalize her agreement, and only nodded her head silently at her mother's comparison. Emma's limbs certainly felt like they had been pulled almost too far out of their sockets. It was as though they were made of over-stretched rubber bands and were desperate to recoil back into her joints, but slow to do so. The ache was unlike anything she was used to, and as much as Emma would have liked to stay on the floor of the apartment, prone and semi-lifeless, she knew she'd be more comfortable waiting out the pain in her own bed on the other side of town.

So with a quick goodbye and strained promise to try another yoga session once they'd both recovered (Mary Margaret insisted that even through the new pains and aches, the practice was something she wanted to learn.), Emma set about pulling herself up from the floorboards. It took Emma about twice as long as normal to pull herself upright, make her way down the stairs, and outside to her yellow bug, but she was proud to say she made it in one piece, even if she did have to limp down the staircase.

The drive back to the apartment she shared with Killian by the docks was a blissfully uneventful relief from the ache she was already feeling in her limbs. However, even with the rest, it somehow took Emma even longer to crawl out of her car and up the stairs to the apartment, her joints groaning in protest in time with the creaking floorboards beneath her feet. She had to stop once or twice to physically pull her legs up the flights of stairs to the apartment landing, all the while wishing she could just be settled on her couch already, curled around Killian with a blanket and a cup of hot chocolate. Maybe she could even convince him to watch a movie before she passed out from exhaustion?

Emma wasn't sure she even had the energy to pull out her keys and open the door, but thankfully she didn't have to worry about that. The door magically opened on it's own to reveal Killian in a t-shirt and sweatpants (His ears must have been burning just by her thinking about him.). Emma loved Killian's leather ensemble from his days aboard the Jolly Roger, but there was something about seeing him in such a casual outfit from her world that stole her breath just as easily. It shouldn't have been possible for anyone to look that good in such drastically different outfits, although it definitely didn't hurt that she knew he went commando under his sweatpants.

Bright blue eyes flickered in happiness at her arrival before narrowing in worry at the sight of her deflated shoulders and slumped form. "Swan? Has some demon bested you? You look exhausted love." He reached for her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, closing the door behind them as he ushered her into their apartment.

Emma toed off her shoes and lazily draped one arm around his waist. She dropped her head onto his shoulder, taking in his scent and letting it wash over her in waves of calm. He must have just come from the shower, she decided. She could feel just a bit of extra heat and moisture clinging to the skin of his neck where it met her forehead.

"Mary Margaret wanted to do yoga. It shouldn't hurt this much. Why does yoga hurt this much anyway?" Emma knew she was mumbling and probably wasn't making much sense to him, but she didn't especially care right then. She just wanted Killian's arm to stay wrapped around her in a warm cocoon and to sink into that heat.

He ran the hand around her shoulder and down her arm, soothing her as she let out a sigh of pleasure, nuzzling further into his neck. It was then he seemed to notice just how tense she was.

"Bloody hell Emma, your shoulders are hard as stone. Lie down, I know just what you need."

He moved her toward the couch, hand smoothing over her arm and shoulder in long strokes. Emma let herself be led, and let Killian direct her to lay face down on the sofa cushions.

"What are you planning, Jones? Because if it involves a blanket and an extended nap with you as my pillow, I'm all for it," She asked, sleep starting to fill her voice as she arranged her arms to lay in front of her over the armrest of the couch.

Killian chuckled, letting his fingers move to rub small circles at the base of her neck while he stood above her next to the sofa. "Not just yet, although I'll certainly be remembering your fondness of using me as a pillow. Let me work out some of that tension in your shoulders. Trust me, you'll not want to wake to that sort of ache in the morning."

"Is there another _ache_ you'd rather I wake up with?" Blue eyes widened in surprise at her boldness then turned absolutely heated with a look that sent fire curling through her. Maybe she'd spent too long with Killian's innuendos as a verbal background, but she'd noticed herself playing along with them more and more often since they'd started living together.

Suddenly his simply standing over her next to the couch seemed more imposing then before. Confidence and heat seeped from every inch of him, from his bare feet to his smoldering grin, and Emma felt her breath quicken in anticipation. Emma knew exactly where this evening was headed now. If she let him, the shoulder rub Killian was offering her would be easily turned into a full body massage that could hopefully include a happy ending.

It'd be the perfect way to end an otherwise painful afternoon.

"Now that, Swan, is an ache I'll soon have you begging for. But first, I'd rather get you sorted." Emma's thighs clenched together at the promise his words held. Even when she was ready to offer herself up to him entirely, Killian Jones wanted to see to her needs first. Emma had learned quickly that Killian was an incredibly attentive lover, but the sheer extent of his devotion never ceased to amaze her and make her heart melt a little more.

He swung one leg over her hips and leaned over her on his knees so close that she could feel the heat of him through their clothes. She had to fight down the urge to raise her hips just enough to actually feel him through his sweatpants.

The hand he was still using to draw mindless patterns on her neck moved downward towards the center of her back, honing in on those areas that needed the most help but stopping short of applying any real pressure. He clicked his tongue in disapproval at the knotted muscles he found there. "Darling, I know you're a tough lass but this sort of pain needs taking care of. Let me take care of it for you. Let me take this hurt from you."

Her back ached so much that she didn't need too much convincing. She pushed her back upwards to meet his hand, breathing out a '_yes_' as he started to apply more pressure to the muscles surrounding her spine. Emma briefly wondered if he would use the fingers of his hand to find the little nooks and crannies between her muscles, nimbly releasing the tension coiled inside her bit by bit. She imagined that since he had offered her this massage he had probably picked up several tricks over the years for how to give a one-handed massage (Unless he was going to bring his hook into the mix? Now that would be interesting.).

No matter what he did, Emma trusted him completely.

As it turned out, Killian didn't need his hook or even two hands worth of fingers to turn Emma into a needy pile of mush on the couch. He mostly used the heel of his palm and the stump of his left hand (When had he taken off his hook? Or had he never put it back on after his shower? Emma hadn't really noticed before.). The appendages worked deep into the taut muscles on her back, up and down the length of her spine and along her shoulders, slowly but surely easing the tightness in her limbs. His movements were firm but never painful, and had her groaning in relief within minutes while her mind went fuzzy.

She barely noticed when he moved his touch under her shirt, only that it felt infinitely better than before, especially when he grazed along the sides of her breasts several times, causing her breath to skip. As his hands forced the clothing of her shirt to ride up her body she felt it snag on something in the middle of her back.

Her bra, she realized hazily, was in the way.

Light laughter filled the air by her ear and Emma realized she must have spoken her thoughts aloud. "Yes Swan, your undergarment is in the way. Would you like me to remove it so I can continue?" The stump of his left arm continued it's deep, languid strokes against her skin while his fingers played with the clasp of her underwear; ready to snap it open in a moment.

"Yeah," She breathed, a satisfied smile reaching her features as she felt the clasp release and his ministrations continue unhindered.

Emma would have been content to fall asleep to the feeling of Killian touching her like this, but the way he kept her just aroused enough to stay awake, anticipating what he would do to her when the time came, was enough to keep her at least somewhat alert, even if her mind had long since gone hazy and blank in a daze of pure want. She lost track of time as he continued to maneuver his way across her skin, pushing and stroking and staying true to his promise to take away the pain in her muscles. Every so often his hands would venture away from the muscles around her spine, to her sensitive sides, the edges of her breasts, and _very_ low on back side, skimming her clothed posterior, all the while keeping himself in constant contact with her bare skin.

The shirt rode further up her back, and was joined by her opened bra, exposing her bare chest. Her nipples tightened as they rubbed against the rough fabric of the couch cushions. Emma moved her chest against the material to relieve the growing ache in her core. She soon felt his lips join his hand on her skin, suckling gently but firmly enough to leave a mark, and her own hands gripped the armrest to steady herself. Her breathing quickened in further want and she felt the ache in core grow even as the ache in her limbs lessened.

Killian had barely touched her intimately but he already had her ready and more than needing to come, and he knew it, just like he always did.

"There's a good girl," He whispered, "That's feeling better already, isn't it? Is there something else you'd like? Do you want me to take care of you down here too?" He slid his hand around her front and stroked one finger dangerously low over her bare stomach, lips roving over her neck and up to her ear as he spoke. "You know I can take such _good_ care of you," The finger moved down to her clothed center, just barely pushing into her through the fabric of her pants, and stroked her entrance lightly.

"Fuck, yes." Her hips moved on their own, leveraging against the couch underneath her to push against his fingers, trying to move them inside of her even through her leggings.

Laughter puffed against her ear at her desperation for release.

His fingers moved away from her core for only a moment to push under her leggings and slide into her panties. Her relieved breath quickly turned into a keening moan as two fingers drew several shallow strokes along the edge of her folds before sliding into her fully. She could feel the cold metal of his rings as he pushed his fingers into her up to his knuckles (He'd put his rings back on after his shower but not his hook? Another thing she hadn't noticed before.). His left arm wrapped around her waist, holding her steady as his fingers began to move inside of her. He pumped his fingers slowly, dragging out her pleasure and watching her face eagerly as her eyelids fluttered.

"I love having you like this Emma, so wet and tight for me, so responsive." His voice sent shivers straight to her center, working with his fingers to build her up higher towards that blissful peak. "You're absolutely breath-taking, Swan. I could watch you chase your pleasure forever." Emma needed him sooner than that. She needed him to send her over in the way only he knew how, but damn it her voice refused to work properly and she couldn't tell him that.

He added a third finger and kept his thumb on top of her clit the entire time, circling against the tiny nub at random intervals to send her higher towards her release, but never letting her fall over the edge. It was agony and paradise at once.

"Killian," Emma turned her head to lock eyes with him, finally finding her voice. "Please, I need…"

"As you wish, love." With that he curled his fingers just right to stroke that one spot inside her that had her seeing stars and moaning loudly. Emma's hands held the armrest in a vice grip as she came in long waves of ecstasy, the pleasure sweeping over her in the same languid strokes Killian had used before to soothe her aching muscles. Killian continued to stroke her through her orgasm with his fingers and words of praise, letting her down slowly until she came back from her high.

When she returned to full awareness, it was to Killian's lips kissing their way up her neck and his fingers leaving her center. "So beautiful. You're always so beautiful when you come. I told you I'd get you sorted first, Swan." He held his glistening fingers in front of her mouth and she opened her lips to take them in, tasting herself on him. Emma watched his eyes darken at the sight of her swirling her tongue around the digits.

"Do you ache, love? Tell me where you ache and I'll take care of it. Take care of you. Just say where." Emma recognized the sheer need in his voice and couldn't help the smirk that spread across her face, pleased to have broken his ironclad control.

"You know where, pirate." Her hips lifted against his obvious bulge and he ground against her deeply for a moment, leaving them both breathless.

Emma watched with hooded eyes as Killian's hand reached for her leggings, reluctantly leaning away from her body as he pulled the material down and off her legs. He tossed the clothing somewhere across the room along with her soaked panties before shoving his sweatpants down too, letting them hang low enough on his hips to reveal his hardened length.

She kept her hands gripped against the armrest and lifted herself to her knees, raising her behind high enough so that Killian's tip could brush against her entrance. His fingers swiped through the entrance of her folds, gathering the moisture there, and spread it across his member in several hard strokes.

He guided himself inside her slowly, controlling the pace and stretching her in the most delicious way. Emma fought to keep from forcing her hips backwards to just take him to the hilt, knowing how good it would be at a slower pace. He was taking his time tonight, even through his obvious need for her.

Once he was fully seated in her, Killian held still for a moment, taking in the feeling of her walls wrapped around him. But Emma _needed_ him to move, to take her and send her over once more.

Her breathy '_please_' was half muffled by the cushions and half by the needy fog in her head. He seemed to hear her plea well enough, because in the next instant he started moving. His hips moved slowly and with a great deal of control, but his thrusts were long and hard, hitting deep inside her to build her back up to the top of that blissful cliff.

Higher and higher she went, her moans growing louder as she drew closer. "That's it darling," Killian crooned in her ear, his voice sounding as wrecked as she felt. "Let me hear what I do to you. Come for me and let me catch you."

His words always seemed to do the trick, triggering her release without fail. This time when she came, it was in the same languid waves, but it seemed to last even longer than before. Her walls clenched down on Killian's length, earning Emma several tortured groans and curses from the man behind her. His thrusts grew frenzied as he found his own release soon after her, bringing her back to Earth after a time.

Her breaths were quick and her heartbeat quicker still as she lay on the couch completely sated and spent. Killian lay over her, his body a warm blanket to fend off whatever chill may have entered the apartment. Both of his arms wrapped around her and he pulled himself from her core, lowering them both more fully onto the sofa. Emma sighed, content, when he nuzzled his nose against her neck, ready to sink into a blissful slumber.

"Please tell me you're going to do this 'yoga' again, Emma."

"Why's that?" She didn't even turn toward him as she asked, too sated and content with where she was to be bothered to move from the sofa.

"If it means another chance to worship your body like this, then your physical pains are a burden I am more than happy to bear."

Emma smiled, feeling the pull of sleep on her mind. She didn't have to tell him she'd already agreed to another yoga session with Mary Margaret. "It's a deal, pirate." And she drifted off.


	3. Wordplay

I have this head canon that because Killian is such a wordy/talkative/silver-tongued person he'd be really good at word-based games. So I have Henry introducing Killian to Scrabble, which he turns out to be insanely good at.

This is basically third wheel/outsider perspective fluff. Just cause I'm curious also how Henry might possibly see Emma and Killian's relationship and interactions from the outside looking in.

Read and review, and tell me what modern wonder Killian should face next!

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"Just how the hell are you so good at this game? It's your first time playing, it's not even fair."

"I'm known for my silver tongue, which as you're well aware, Swan, has many talents."

Henry was only half-listening to the exchange in front of him, more interested in the lettered tiles at his disposal. It wasn't until he looked up from his set of tiles that he realized his mom was blushing and glaring daggers at the pirate, who held her gaze in delighted challenge, with his tongue running across his lip.

Henry couldn't help but feel like he'd missed something.

He shook his head and tried to put it out of his mind. It was probably another inside joke they had. Knowing it's meaning wouldn't help Henry beat Killian at the game, and he so wanted to beat the pirate, because his mom was right. It just didn't seem fair that Killian could be so good at something from their world that he'd never done before.

When Henry had pulled Scrabble from the closet earlier that evening, he hadn't thought too much about whether or not Killian would be any good at it. He'd just felt like playing, and the pirate wanted to learn. Then his mom had come back to the apartment from the Sheriff's station, seen what they were about to start, and asked to join in.

Back in New York, Emma and Henry played Scrabble all the time. Henry was growing into something of a wordsmith and Emma had to stop pretending to lose to her son when the points became too obviously one-sided in his favor. He had always been good with words. It was something Henry prided himself on. Unfortunately, he'd conveniently forgotten that Hook was as much of a wordsmith as Henry, if not more so.

The pirate was absolutely destroying Emma in points, and had a noticeable lead on Henry. After being the Scrabble-master for so long Henry was starting to feel annoyed by the whole thing.

It didn't even seem like Killian was playing to win though, just playing words that had memories behind them. He was placing words in lucky spots and sending glances at either Emma or Henry, depending on whom the word was really meant for. So far he'd played words like 'stalk' ("You never forget your first", He'd said to Emma. She'd chuckled and muttered "beanstalk" under her breath.), 'hook', and 'cuff'. The look the pirate sent his mom after that last word was absolutely… something. Henry wasn't entirely sure _what_ it was, but he could hear his mom's breathing quicken and got the distinct impression he wasn't supposed to be seeing this.

Henry had a lucky break by placing 'boat' with the 't' on a triple word score (27 points). But when Killian's turn had come again he'd placed 'sail' in front of it and managed to land the 's' on the neighboring triple word score that also connected his 's' to the end of Emma's 'laze' (75 points.).

Killian held a finger over 'sailboat' on the board, shot Henry a look, and asked "Tomorrow, lad?"

Emma sighed and shook her head. "I really shouldn't be letting you steal boats, kid. Your mom is gonna kill me when she finds out I turned you into a small time crook."

"Commandeering, Swan. It's not stealing if we bring them back in working order. And it's merely in the pursuit of knowledge and essential life skills. And to that point, should he successfully prevent the Queen from learning of our duplicitous activities it will be yet another skill he possesses. Much like learning a waltz for an unexpected ball, wouldn't you agree, love?" Henry would have to have been blind not to notice the way Killian's eyes were twinkling at Emma. Anyone could see the man absolutely adored his mom, but mostly Henry was just glad Emma seemed happy.

The corner of his mom's mouth turned upward, her eyes glazed in what Henry was sure was a private, but happy memory. "One ballroom dance that we had to sneak into isn't enough to make it a life skill."

"Aye, but I'd be delighted to have another one anyway."

She had smiled instead of responding, her hand reaching out to brush against his arm, before she turned her attention back to the game board.

Several moves later Emma played 'caps' (a measly 8 points) and Killian had played 'night' in front of it on a double word score (32 points). Killian lowered his eyes at Emma and even though her answering sound was probably meant to be a laugh it came out as more of a snort. "We never did get that nightcap. Did we pirate?" She asked.

"I distinctly remember an unusual interruption." They wore matching smirks and Henry knew without a doubt they were revisiting old memories through the game.

Was this what dating was like for all grown ups, lots of inside jokes and blushing? Henry had noticed Regina definitely smiled a lot more when she was around Robin Hood, and he'd caught Mary Margaret and David sending each other little smiles and touches all the time, but Emma hadn't been like that with Walsh in New York, and technically they'd dated for eight months. Then again, an evil flying monkey from Oz probably wasn't the best example of dating for anyone to follow, no matter how decent a guy he seemed at first. Henry never had any reason to hate Walsh, but back then he'd been more tolerant of the guy than anything else. Not to mention the three of them had never really hung out together the way Killian did with them.

Henry couldn't help but think that the way his mom and Killian acted, the way he saw most of the happy couples of Storybrooke act, was what dating and relationships were supposed to look like. They each had shared experiences and memories that bound them together. They could be light and playful with each other. They were honest and open with each other. Henry knew all to well the history that went into the early stages of those relationships, but it all just seemed so easy once each pair fell into it.

While Henry had been busy with his thoughts, Killian's hand had moved to play with some of Emma's hair at the base of her neck, rubbing the strands between his fingers and smiling softly at her. Then his hand had moved to the side of her neck and she had squirmed at the ticklish feeling. A hushed "Hook!" escaping her in reprimand as his eyes lit up in amusement.

The rest of the game had passed in much the same way. Henry would hunt the depths of his brain for a word to trump Killian, like 'guano' (24 points), and 'qi' (31 points). Emma would scrape together something smaller in points that would actually expand the playable space and move the game forward, like 'sweet' (9 points) and 'alter' (8 points). Then Killian would blow them both out of the water with a word like 'sailboat' (75 points) and 'qat' (39 points. And what was a 'qat' anyway? It shouldn't have mattered that it was in the dictionary if he didn't know what it was.). Then the pirate would shoot a look or comment at Emma that had her either fidgeting or shooting words back at him, and Henry would get the distinct impression they were using the game as their own personal time machine down memory lane.

In the end, Emma held a measly 91 points to Henry's 176, while Killian had crushed them all with 233 points.

Henry never considered himself to be a sore loser, but the point difference had taken a stab at his ego and he wanted to fix it. He adamantly told the pirate he wanted a rematch but Killian had just laughed and his mom told him they'd play another night if he really wanted his wordy vengeance.

"Honestly, kid, you were getting a little cocky at Scrabble before this game. Think of it like a life lesson in humility. I got one every time you and I used to play," Emma noted as the trio cleaned up the board. They put the game back in the closet before Emma declared it was time for bed, and Henry had been sent to brush his teeth.

As he walked out of the living room he heard Killian ask, "So Swan, about that nightcap?"

Henry decided to give them some space for the rest of the night and just go straight to bed. His mom and the pirate bid him good night, and the last Henry saw of them for the evening, Killian was taking out his rum flask and offering it to Emma, who smiled and took a swig.

It was some time later that Henry woke with a start to the sound of something crashing to the apartment floor. There were hushed voices outside, frantic but laughing, which confused Henry even more in his sleep-induced haze. He glanced at the clock next to his bed and realized he'd only been asleep for about three hours. Maybe he'd go check and see what happened, just in case.

If there was one skill Henry was eternally grateful to have learned from his many fairy tale character teachers, it was how to sneak around and be unseen. Between impromptu lessons from Mary Margaret, Robin Hood and the Merry Men, Ruby, and even Granny, Henry found it easy to fall into the steps that would hide the sound of his footfalls. He walked slowly on the balls of his feet, only putting pressure on them when he was sure the floorboard wouldn't creak under his weight, and made his way down the hall towards the living room where the sound came from.

The hushed voices grew clearer as he got closer, and Henry recognized Killian's lilting accent and his mom's usually clear tone, both slightly slurred. Maybe they'd each had a bit too much of Killian's rum and were only just now getting to bed? But then what was the noise he'd heard?

Henry inched his eyes around the corner of the hallway to look into the living room, and smiled at what he saw.

Killian and Emma were swaying on their feet in front of the couch, clinging to each other and half laughing over a pair of broken drinking glasses and spilled liquid. Henry could only assume it was rum that now littered the floor. Killian's hook arm held Emma's hand out to one side, while his other arm was wrapped around her waist and his mom's other hand grasped Killian's shoulder in an attempt to hold them both upright.

"I told you there wasn't enough room for a full waltz Killian. Now we've gotta clean up the glasses," He heard Emma trying to sound angry, but her voice was beaming carelessly in hushed laughter, so the severity was lost.

"Absolutely right, love, and we will, but you know I could never refuse a dance with you. Forgive an old pirate for trying in such close quarters?"

Emma's face moved closer to his until their noses bumped and foreheads touched. "Forgiven, pirate. Always forgiven." And then she kissed him, slow and sweet. Her arm moved from his hook to his shoulder and Killian's arms moved to hold her closer to him as they lost themselves in each other and the moment.

Henry smiled at them, glad for their happiness and how they had found each other. That was what a relationship should look like, he thought. Playful teasing and honesty, with memories built together in moments big and small.

He turned away, determined this time to give them their privacy and go back to bed. This time, he stayed asleep till morning.


	4. Stalled

Prompt from a guest reviewer: Killian learns about motorboats.

This was going to be smut. It was going to be wonderful captain swan smuttiness but this idea just wouldn't leave me alone, so here it is. Henry and Killian need to hash things out after the Snow Queen's curse and Henry wants to take Killian out on a motorboat instead of a sailboat to do it. Unfortunately, they get stuck out at sea for a bit so they have to talk. It's more of a heart to heart with the circumstance of modern technology than the humor of learning said tech.

Double warning since this turned out a lot longer than I was planning, and semi-drama-ier too.

You know the drill. I don't own the characters but do read, review, and leave a prompt. What 21st century wonder should Killian face next?

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Killian may have been learning about all of the technological wonders in the land without magic, but he was still a simple sailor at heart, and a superstitious one at that. And that healthily superstitious part of him still believed in heeding any signs the Universe sent (He liked to think that the gods of his realm had little influence in this land, despite any evidence to the contrary, but a piece of him still believed there were forces working beyond his control even in this world, hence, his concession to the Universe.).

Being trapped several miles off shore in a motionless, what Henry had called a motorboat, was clearly one such sign. In this case, it was a sign to finally broach a subject that both Henry and Killian had been desperate to avoid; what was said between them during the curse of shattered sight.

After the Snow Queen's curse was broken there were a lot of condolences and apologies being made around Storybrooke. Neighbors tried to forgive each other their petty and sometimes not so petty grievances, old rivalries that were revisited were reburied, and loved ones reconciled their slights.

Killian wasn't quite sure what category of grievances he fit into with Henry, though. Of the two of them, only the lad had actually been affected by the curse and so was the only one actively pursuing any sort of aggression. It was probably the only time Killian had been thankful not to be in possession of his heart since it meant a lesser chance of anyone being caused harm at his hand, err, hook.

It also meant any offenses made at his expense were less likely to make an emotional impact upon his person, at least until he actually got his heart back.

Admittedly, the boy could have been much harsher in his verbal assault against Killian (because what pirate would honestly be offended by being told he was a little dirty? It simply came with the trade. And he bathed plenty frequently now to appease his Swan thank you very much), but the lad had also claimed he never liked the pirate.

Killian hadn't thought much of the comment at the time. He'd been more elated at the fact that Emma had used the word 'together' to describe their courtship. But the words had stayed nestled in the back of the pirate's head, parasitic and growing as they slowly ate at his few mental securities. It wasn't until after Killian's heart had been returned to him that he had been able to properly think over all that the lad had said and what it meant.

If Henry never liked Killian, how then, could he stand to be around the man for so long on their sailing adventures around the coast of Storybrooke? Did Henry only ever tolerate him? Were they even friends at all? What if Henry only thought of Killian as an imposter trying to encroach on the space in the boy's life meant for Neal?

There were too many new and troubling questions that needed answering, if the lad would only help.

In the days after the curse and further still after his heart's return, Killian noticed Henry doing his best to avoid the pirate. Perhaps he realized they would need to sort out what was said during the curse and was dreading it as much as Killian was. One recent encounter between them at Granny's involved the pair arriving first for a Charming family dinner and while Killian had tried to clear the air with some light teasing Henry had only spoken in stiff, generic pleasantries until another family member arrived. In another incident Henry was slightly more dramatic and actively crossed the street to avoid walking on the same sidewalk as Killian.

Things were tense between them, but certainly not hostile. Killian supposed they would have to be on more frequent speaking terms for things to go that far.

So when Henry had sheepishly approached Killian about commandeering a boat for the day, Killian had taken it as a sign from the Universe that they would finally be talking sooner rather than never, so he agreed.

Henry had insisted on taking something other than a sailboat that day. He'd pointed instead to what looked like a run-down dinghy that would have been nothing more than a lifeboat on the Jolly Roger. It seemed to be fashioned from the same strange metal as Swan's yellow land vessel and the Prince's truck, and there was a sleek, black, and obviously foreign device attached to the stern. Killian could only assume it was this device that allowed the questionable vessel to move at all.

"A sail-less vessel then? Am I to understand you've learned to command one of these better than you've learned with your grandfather's truck?" He gave the lad a knowing look. Surely Henry realized his adventure with the prince's truck and the mailbox was hardly a well-kept secret. As with all his latest discoveries in this realm, Killian was eager to learn, but cautious about anything that may lead to harm upon his person, or result in his being lost at sea. As such, he had his reservations about the lad leading any expeditions on such a vessel.

"It's called a motorboat, and that," He pointed to the black device on the stern, "Is the motor. And it's fine; I know what I'm doing. Besides, if it gets really bad, at least there are no mail boxes on the water."

Killian had laughed at that, and moved to help Henry set the boat off. He recognized what passed for a tiller, and a skeg (It was considerably smaller than what he was used to, but Killian was grateful that at least some things were consistent across the realms.) and patiently let Henry explain the various parts of the motor he couldn't figure out for himself. The lad explained how the motor worked much like a car engine on land. That it ran on gasoline, the strange and foul smelling fuel that seemed to power many things in this realm, which was currently being stored in a colorful vat sitting in the bottom of the boat and connected to the motor via a narrow tube. The gasoline powered the motor to turn belts and gears within the device that turned a propeller at its base, moving the vessel through the water at breathtaking speed.

He watched curiously as the lad lowered the motor fully into the water, and yanked on a string attached to it (To start the engine, he'd explained.). The motor whirred to life noisily, spitting water behind them, and they were off, with Henry steering the vessel from the stern.

It was certainly faster than any ship he'd been on. And smaller too, making it more maneuverable and easier to handle, even in the hands of someone as inexperienced as Henry, although, it also seemed to give the boy a false sense of confidence in his limited abilities. There were several close calls while leaving the harbor where Killian had wanted to reach for the tiller himself to avoid crashing into some of the much larger vessels, but Henry had swerved away from collision in the nick of time and often at break neck speed. With steering behavior like that it was no wonder the lad had run into that mailbox.

After clearing the harbor the pair traveled outward, keeping within sight of the town, but far enough from shore that the isolation of the sea was still noticeable on the edges of their awareness. Henry was tense the entire time; his knuckles squeezed white against the tiller, eyes looking through Killian straight ahead, and shoulders drawn up toward his ears. Killian had seen the same look on Emma countless times when she wanted to say something but had no idea how to start. His inclination was to let Henry start the conversation between them so he'd feel at ease, so Killian said nothing and waited for the lad to speak.

And he waited.

And waited some more.

It was almost twenty minutes after they had cast off that Killian saw Henry's shoulders sag in defeat. Twenty minutes of veering through wayward fishing vessels and white-capped swells, and the pirate thought they were finally going to address the tension between them. But Henry didn't seem to want to do that. "We should head back in. This was a bad idea," He started, eyes glued forward on the distant horizon and hands already directing the boat back to shore. "My mom's probably-"

_Pop pop pop pop pop pop wheeze_

There was a sudden sputtering and the motor and went lifeless. The motorboat slowed to a crawl before stopping completely, and the vessel started to drift, rocking helplessly against the whim of the ocean waves.

Henry's fingers loosened from the tiller and easily lifted the vat of gasoline from the boat floor. Brown eyes turned to Killian with a look of dread that the pirate knew must have mirrored his own face, before leaning back in realization.

"We're out of gas."

"Gasoline?" Killian's face was disbelieving. They had run out of some fuel and now they were stuck in a windless stretch of sea? Sailing vessels may have been constrained in their movements by the availability of wind but at least they needn't fear the loss of a physical resource so ridiculous as gasoline. This was one bit of technology Killian was thoroughly unimpressed with.

Henry sighed in resignation. "It's my fault. I should have checked to see if there was enough gas in the tank or if there was an extra container but I didn't and now I just feel like an idiot."

Killian's hand ran through his hair, tempted to pull the strands out in frustration. "Bloody hell. If this isn't another sign from the universe…" Killian muttered.

"A sign?" Henry asked, having just caught Killian's words.

"That we're stuck, Henry. We are literally and figuratively stuck. Have been since the last curse, maybe even longer." Henry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyes darting around the boat for something, anything, else to look at. Killian sighed and his tone softened. "Believe me, this isn't my first choice of conversation whilst we sit here stranded but it needs to be dealt with. We both know you asked me out here for a reason other than a pleasure cruise. We need to talk about what was said during the Snow Queen's curse."

When the lad refused to say a word, his mouth drawn into a tight line, Killian realized he'd have to take the plunge and go first. Bloody hell, this was going to be like Neverland's Echo Cave all over again.

"Henry, I haven't been fair to you. What you said during the curse about me and Emma together…" He trailed off, knowing Henry remembered exactly what was said that night. "I was beyond joyous that Emma told you we were together. That she'd used that word at all. I didn't even take what you'd said about your feelings toward it into consideration until well afterward, and for that I'm sorry. I should have addressed your feelings sooner and certainly not waited until we were stranded at sea to do it. You deserved better than this." Killian gestured helplessly around them, the Maine shoreline off to one side and the great blue yonder stretched out as far as the eye could see everywhere else.

Henry's brown eyes narrowed in thought, meeting the pirate's blue eyes in a steady, probing gaze that felt just a tad too severe for someone so young. Killian wondered if he'd somehow learned it from watching the Queen.

He also realized that Henry still wasn't talking and didn't seem eager to start any time soon. Truly, this was Echo Cave revisited.

"I also apologize for the way I've treated you since your arrival back from Neverland."

That had Henry tilting his head sideways in curious suspicion, a gesture he most certainly learned from the Queen.

"I apologize for not treating you as your own person. For having ever thought of you as a hurdle to be overcome in my courtship of Emma. For once looking at you as Gold did, and only seeing your father, only seeing a second chance to fix one of my many mistakes. I am sorry, Henry. Please let me say, though, I've not that of you in such a way for months, and that even though my actions were controlled by Gold's hands during the curse, he and I did share the sentiment of wanting you safe from the Snow Queen's curse."

"No." Killian's heart leapt to his throat at Henry's word of denial. Gods, how could a single word instill such fear in him? "Gold didn't want me safe. He just didn't want the guilt of leaving family behind again. I know you don't think of me like I'm my dad anymore, but Gold still does."

Killian felt his shoulders sag. He was glad to have the lad's approval in at least one part of his apology, but also sorry that Henry felt at all betrayed and hurt by his grandfather. It was yet another reason Killian did not think he would ever be able to truly forgive the Crocodile.

Despite the tension inside him, Killian offered the boy what he hoped was an encouraging smile, if only to get him talking again. Henry's gaze only softened after what felt like an eternity, and even then it was only by the slightest of margins.

"What I said during the curse about never liking you, that's not how I feel now," Henry started, rubbing his hands together nervously. "I don't think it is, anyway. I mean, maybe once, but that was back when…" He bit his lip, visibly holding himself back from saying whatever he wanted to tell the pirate. But if they were going to move forward then it needed to be said aloud.

"Henry…" The lad stiffened before bursting like a maelstrom, holding nothing back from the pirate's captive ears.

"When I really saw you for the first time it was when you were sinking your poisoned hook into my grandfather in New York. You worked with Cora, with Pan, with anyone who could get you closer to your revenge. You shot Belle, had my mom Regina captured so she'd be tortured by Greg and Tamara, and brought a giant to Storybrooke that almost destroyed the town." It was everything he'd wanted to say to the pirate, pouring out in a way it couldn't during the curse. In a way that hurt Killian more because he knew Henry hadn't needed any magical prodding to say it. But it needed saying, and Killian needed to hear it, if he wanted them to be able to move forward. So Killian would do what he did best, take the abuse and survive. And it didn't seem like Henry was slowing down any time soon.

"You were selfish and dark and every bit the cruel pirate I'd been told about all my life. Yeah, you helped get me back from Neverland and eventually stop the Wicked Witch, but you were also the one to pull my mom and me from the safe life we had in New York. You were Captain Hook, and you wanted to take me fishing? Tell me about my dad and then date my mom? What was I supposed to think about any of that?"

Killian knew Henry had to speak his mind, but if he could just defend himself… "Henry, I want to change. I am changing. Every moment I spend with your mother, with you, it makes me want to be a better man, and I've spent these last months doing more good than I ever thought I'd be capable of-"

"I never saw most of that myself." The lad was quick to interrupt. He didn't seem to want his momentum stopped, for fear he would lose his nerve. "Whenever a crisis comes the first thing people say is for me to go and hide somewhere safe. I only ever had the stories other people said about you to go on. It's only now that I'm really starting to see you as Killian Jones and not just Hook. I'm not saying you can't change or that you haven't been trying. I know you have because everyone I trust says you have been. It's just that I haven't gotten to see it like everyone else has, so it might take me a little longer to really get used to it."

The verbal assault ceased, and quiet came over the pair, giving Killian time to reflect on what Henry had let out.

He realized the lad was right. There were actually very few occasions where Henry had personally seen Killian acting as the hero instead of the villain. There were far more instances where he was simply expected to accept that the pirate was sitting at the dinner table with the family, or was taking his mother to dinner, or bringing him sailing, or telling him stories of the father he never truly knew. Henry had existed with Killian purely on his faith in other people who said the pirate was now trustworthy. The lad hadn't been given the opportunity to see it for himself.

Perhaps more importantly, he'd been cheated out of the chance to make that judgment for himself as an informed young man instead of being treated like a child who had to accept everything on blind faith in others.

It was downright patronizing toward Henry, and he certainly didn't deserve it, even if the others really did only have the lad's safety at heart.

Henry's voice pulled him from his musings. "You know I don't hate you, right? Regina told me how the curse brought up and amplified old feelings, and that's what made me say most of what I said. I really am grateful for everything you've done that helped my family and the town. And I know you've done so much to change and be better."

"Truly?"

"Yeah, and about the sailing lessons and stories. I didn't know my dad long enough to really _know_ him even though I wanted to, and mom only knows so much about what he did before they met, so you teaching me all of this and telling me about him means a lot to me. I guess I never knew about my family when I was little so now that I have the chance I kind of like knowing where they come from." Henry smiled at Killian, who felt the corners of his own lips tugged upwards to match.

"Henry, thank you for telling me this. I know it's not been easy for you but I'm eternally grateful we can talk like this."

"Me too Killian."

The tension between them was less, but the relief was short-lived, when Killian remembered that they had no way of getting back to shore and were in fact stranded at sea. Perhaps the lad's phone would be able to call for help?

"Need a lift?!" A clear voice rang out over the expanse of open water and Killian swore it was the Universe that had seen fit to send an angel to the rescue.

"Swan!" "Mom!" They cried out together in relief, glad for the miraculous and well-timed aid.

"Not to sound ungrateful for the assistance love, but what are you doing out here? We've not been gone so long as to warrant a search party, have we?"

Emma laughed from the deck of the larger fishing vessel, currently being operated by Leroy and a dockworker Killian didn't recognize. "Leroy recognized the motorboat you were taking, knew it had barely any gas in the gas tank, and saw Henry almost run into a lot of other boats on your way out of the harbor, so he called me. Tie this onto the boat, we'll pull you back."

She threw down the end of a line of rope, which Killian immediately tied to the bow tip of the small vessel. The boats were pulled together and Henry and Killian climbed aboard the other vessel into Emma's waiting arms.

"But mom, there's a whole ocean to get stuck on. How'd you know we were right _here_?" Emma ruffled her son's hair affectionately.

"Your phone GPS kid. Storybrooke magic didn't affect it." Her lips were turned upward in a proud smirk that Killian easily recognized. Emma had once confided in Killian that for a long time she looked at being the Savior as a burden of birth, not an earned title. That who she was as an individual had no bearing on her ability to be anyone's savior and that it could have easily been Joe Schmo instead (Though who this "Joe" was, Killian had no idea.). She'd confessed it was when she got to use her hard-earned skills from a lifetime of protecting herself that she felt the title was at all appropriate for her.

The smirk she wore now was the same smirk he'd last seen in the Enchanted Forest of old, when she had deprived him of a dashing rescue by freeing herself (and Robin's wife Marian) from the Queen's prison.

She really would make a brilliant pirate.

"GPS?"

"I can tell you later," Henry offered, his mouth turned upward, welcoming and open.

Blue eyes met brown and Killian found himself mirroring Henry's expression. Could it be so easy? One afternoon and a single conversation stranded together and suddenly the air was clear between them?

No, it wasn't yet. If they were going to move past this and have a real friendship between them it would take time and patience from them both. But talking like this was a very large and essential first step. One that Killian was glad they had taken together.

Of course the next time they had an adventure together Killian hoped it might involve something other than being stranded at sea. Perhaps another gambling lesson if Swan didn't find out?


	5. Good Vibrations

Prompt: Killian vs. the washing machine

Prompt: Killian finds Emma stash of 'toys'

When Killian asked Emma for help in his battle against the washing machine, Emma was hard pressed to turn him down. She just wished she had realized sooner that Killian's intentions were to get _her_ against the appliance. PWP combining two prompts together and anal. Just because I could.

**Wow! I seriously love all of these reviews and prompt requests! You guys are the best! My email has been buzzing and it's wonderful! So what I've gathered from your comments and PM exchanges is that you liked the closure with the Captain Cobra friendship after Ingrid's curse/the fluff in the Scrabble game, but you'd also like a little more steaminess in general. Ask and you shall receive! For your reading pleasure, two prompts in one. I was going to separate these into two chapters but thought you all deserved more for your reviews and faves. Enjoy the single longest piece of delicious filth I've ever written.**

**Disclaimer: Characters are not mine.**

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It was becoming a habit with him, and with them. One minute Emma would be explaining something ordinary that confused the one-handed pirate about her world, and the next, he'd make a joke or innuendo that had his eyes burning and hers matching and they would tumble into each other with lips and touches that left them both needy and breathless. Maybe it was because she knew he could back up his bravado in spades, or maybe being with him just unleashed something in her. All Emma knew was that Killian Jones made her downright insatiable, and she loved it.

So it didn't really shock her when she found herself in her current position, trapped between Killian and the washing machine, his mouth attacking her neck and hips holding her against the vibrating appliance as it rubbed them against each other deliciously.

"You knew exactly how the washer worked when you called me over here, pirate," She accused, her voice breathless but surprisingly steady.

They had been giving their apartment a thorough spring-cleaning. It included everything from vacuuming and dusting to washing towels and bed linens. Killian had promised he knew what he was doing with the ancient and rickety washing machine ("It's not difficult, Swan. Towels go in, cleaning powder goes in, shut the door, press a button. It's hardly some unbreakable curse."). But when he called Emma over not two minutes later, a note of panic in his voice, she dropped the vacuum on the carpet and raced the twenty feet that separated them to come to his rescue. Instead of a smoking heap or over-soaped disaster, she found herself with Killian's arms wrapping around her waist, his mouth insistent on hers, while he moved to press her ass against the noisy washer.

"Just seizing the moment, love," She felt his lips say against hers, before they ventured down the line of her throat. His teeth bit at her pulse and she clutched his shoulders, nails digging into his skin through his shirt. She knew the shirt wouldn't stop the appearance of any nail marks on his shoulders, and she was just a little excited to see them once she got his shirt off.

Before she could remove his shirt, his hand and hook slid hers upwards, forcing his mouth away from her skin to take the article off. Emma smiled at the impish delight on his face, his eagerness infectious as she felt a familiar heat crawl through her.

Her bra was removed with the same haste and he pressed close again, his hooked arm holding her against him and his hand trailing fiery touches along her exposed skin. Her nipples rubbed roughly against his shirt, the washing machine's vibrations creating a friction that had Emma keening and clinging to his shoulders and neck.

How was she this gone already when he had done little more than kiss her and hold her against an appliance? The man really did bring out something insatiable in her.

"Do you like this, Swan?" He teased. Killian knew exactly what he was doing to her, but she knew he liked hearing her as much as she liked listening to him.

"Mmm, feels so good, Killian." Emma struggled to form full sentences. Her thoughts were hazy in the growing cloud of lust and she was more than happy to lose herself in the fog.

She felt the tingle of his lips against her neck as he chuckled. "Glad you approve, love. But you know what's even better?"

He slipped both his legs in between hers, spreading her so she could feel him more fully even through both of their jeans. The vibrations of the washer against her ass moved her clothed clit against Killian's hardening length and she moaned loudly.

Killian groaned in her ear. "Feel what you do to me, love. Feel how _hard_ I am for you. I bet you're so wet right now, that I could slide inside your heat with ease. Would you like that, Swan? My cock moving inside you and easing the _ache_ I know you feel?"

His hips slid further into the cradle of thighs, holding still against her shuddering center. Her head rolled against his shoulder at the sensation. It was so much stimulation at once. The shaking washer moving her hips against her will, the rub of her jeans against her clit, the length of him between her legs as he slid over her, even the rub of her bare chest against his clothing as he denied her the satisfaction of his nakedness. It was all too much and she felt herself coiling tighter at the combination.

Emma tilted her hips toward him, desperate for him to move and create that sweet friction she knew they both craved, but his arms stayed firmly wrapped around her, holding her to him like a second skin.

"Please, Killian I need you to move- Oh fuck!"

He started rutting his hips against her, his pace somehow in time with the washer behind her. The spin cycle controlled her movements as much as his arms and hips did, bringing her higher and higher.

"You remember how I feel inside you when you're like this, when you're hot and tight and I'm filling you so deeply all you can think of is to scream my name, over and over." His words coincided with the roll of his hips against her, and she struggled to respond.

"Killian," She breathed, although it was becoming harder to do even that.

The pressure built inside her for what felt like an eternity before leveling off on a delicious plateau. The thrust of his hips held her on the knife's edge of pleasure, slowing down and speeding up in an effort to keep her from falling over the edge completely. Killian seemed to love making her straddle the edge of her release for as long as possible. She'd noticed he loved listening to her beg and praise him as she sought that blissful release only he could give her, denying her what she craved until she was nothing but a pile of need begging him incoherently in broken phrases.

"Killian, oh fuck, I need- God, so good!"

She didn't know what she was saying anymore. But she could hear Killian perfectly through the roaring of her heartbeat in her ears.

"That's it Swan, take your pleasure. Let me hear you come apart for me."

She let his urging words build her up while his hips and the washer moved against her in a faster rhythm, finally allowing her to tumble over the edge.

When she came it was to the shift of his hips moving her jeans to stroke her clit more fully with every clothed thrust. Emma cried out against Killian's neck, her hands desperately clutching him to her for support while she rode out her orgasm in the now frantic movement of his hips.

As she came down from her high, she felt the pirate continue rutting against her, chasing his own release before he stiffened and groaned loudly.

Emma's knees were too weak to hold her, and she was grateful for Killian's hips keeping her standing, even as one of his arms dropped from her back to lean against the still thrumming washing machine. The pair simply held each other, reveling in the afterglow. It was another several long moments before Emma got her breathe back enough to question Killian's intentions.

"Is this what you had in mind all along, pirate?" She asked, unwilling to move from where she was still clinging to him.

Killian's laugh was tired but musical to her ears. "The thought may have occurred to me on the last laundry day. It would be a pity to let such an opportunity go to waste."

She snorted at that. "Is that what you do? I show you technology from my world and then you find a way to weasel sex into it? I swear, I can't even arrest someone nowadays without thinking about you and handcuffs." Emma tried to put some conviction behind her words, really she did, but she found it to be too much of an effort in her satiated state and found herself nuzzling her nose against his neck instead.

A lascivious smirk covered his face when he pulled back to look at her, his voice low and sending thrills to her core. "I see my work is well on its way to completion. Will you allow me to continue it, princess?"

Emma trembled at the _want_ in his eyes, and knew their morning dalliance was only just beginning. It seemed cleaning the apartment would have to wait until another day.

The quick dry hump against the washing machine was delicious but now she was aching for him to be inside her, just as he had whispered in her ear. To move in the way his hips had promised only moments before. There was just one thing she wanted to confirm before she stripped them of their pants and sank down into golden bliss right there on the floor.

"You've been thinking about this since you realized the washing machine vibrated?"

"Oh, longer than that, love. That vibrating contraption under the bed is what really inspired me." His lips moved to her shoulder, tracing smoothly against her skin with every word he spoke. It was distracting and made Emma want to fall back into the warmth of him, but something about what he was saying was bugging her, and she needed to focus to figure out what it was. "I'll admit I was baffled by it at first, but the shape of it was rather familiar so it was no difficult leap as to its purpose. Perhaps we could…" His hips lifted upwards into her in question, and she found it hard to breathe for more than one reason.

Her vibrator.

Holy shit he'd found her vibrator. Not only that, but he even figured out it vibrated and he wanted to use it on her.

Horrified as she should have been by his discovery, she was too turned on right now to care. In fact, she kind of wanted to see what he would do with it if given the chance. But while the notion of him using her vibrator on her sent a thrill racing to her core, she also wanted him inside of her, wanted that ache he'd created satisfied.

Killian's hand shifted to move between the still vibrating washer and her ass, giving it a squeeze, and an idea came to her. Something that would make her feel so full and deliciously used. The image that came to mind had her biting her lip in eagerness, and she wondered what her pirate would think of it.

"So you're not mad that I have it? I kind of thought you'd be annoyed that I had anything other than your talents getting me off?" She questioned, keeping her voice coy and rubbing herself against him, gauging his reaction.

"You've not always had me to keep you satisfied, love. But now that I've found the device it does present some interesting… Opportunities." His voice was dripping with ego and sex and he emphasized his sentence with another squeeze of his hand on her ass cheek and a heavy roll of his hips against her that made her catch her breath.

Emma had a hard time keeping her face guarded and neutral as she questioned him further. "If you figured out what my vibrator was, then you know where it's meant to go, right?"

"Is that what you call it, a vibrator? How appropriate. Aye, I know where it's meant for, and it's somewhere I'm rather fond of." His hand slid between her legs and one finger gave her clothed center a long, hard stroke and she fought the urge to tilt her hips in time with his movement. She couldn't give in yet. She needed to tell him her plans and make sure he was on board with it.

"Did you know there's somewhere else in me that vibrator has been? Somewhere I'm hoping you can help me with?"

Blue eyes darkened impossibly at her, intrigued and more than a little surprised at her suggestion. "Is that so?"

Her hands smoothed over his chest, finally moving under his shirt to feel the steeliness of his abs and chest. "Hmm. It's happened once or twice, when I'm alone and naked in bed, wishing it was your fingers inside me instead of mine, that I want just a bit more," She confessed, her hands moving to his back and trailing down to his ass. "So I use the vibrator and…" She gave his cheeks a squeeze and his breath caught as he groaned in understanding.

"Well now, the princess is more wanton than the fair citizens of Storybrooke would believe. Whatever would they think?"

"Not that they ever need to know, but they'd probably be shocked out of their corsets. What do _you_ think of it?"

His smile was as filthy as he was probably imagining her solo bed adventures to be, and it thrilled her to see him like this. "What would you have of me, Swan? Just say the word and it's yours." Her pirate was always so eager.

Emma's hand palmed his length through the front of his now wet jeans and she sighed in his ear, "I want you to fuck me with the vibrator while you're buried in my ass. I want to be so full of what you do to me that I can't think straight."

His groan reverberated through her and he held himself tightly against her hand for a long moment before abruptly pulling away, and dragging her down the hall to her bedroom.

Emma didn't have to see his face to know her smile was just as sinfully excited as Killian's. It had been a while since she'd had anal sex, and then with mixed results, but it was something she wanted to try with Killian. If anyone was going to know how to make anal sex really work well, it was the 300-year-old pirate who was probably capable of writing his own kama sutra.

As eager as she knew the pirate was it didn't stop him from systematically dragging off his clothes in the hallway in an impromptu strip tease. His eyes held her gaze with every piece of skin that was revealed and Emma wet her lips anxiously, wanting nothing more than to push him against the wall and lick every inch of him.

It wasn't until they reached the bedroom that Emma finally unbuttoned her own jeans. She turned away from him, bending over to slide the denim and her underwear from her legs while she grabbed the vibrator and lube from a box under the bed.

"That's quite a view, love," She heard Killian groan out as she turned to face him, still bent over. His hand stroked his length slowly, sliding the bead of pre-cum over the head, and he took several steps toward her. "Still want me to take a closer look?"

"I think you'll like it better if I'm over here, pirate." Emma crawled onto the bed, glancing back at Killian and deliberately swinging her hips as she settled on spread knees in the middle of the mattress, facing away from him. Her upper body slid out in front of her, the heated skin of her breasts dragging against the cool sheets. She groaned at the contact, bringing one hand down between her legs to rub against her slit to quell the ache that had only grown since the round against the washer.

She didn't even notice the bed dip when he joined her, but the chill of his hook running down her spine and over the curve of her ass had her shivering in eagerness and moving her fingers deep inside her. Killian's fingers joined hers in their strokes, their combined effort easily bringing Emma closer to the edge, but never letting her push over.

"That button on the end turns on the vibrations? Aye?" Killian's voice blew into her ear as he loomed over her. She could only nod in response, lost in the sensations he was creating in her. If this was how the pirate led interrogations, Emma had no trouble believing he always got what he wanted out of his prisoners. "The vibrator is going to be on while I get you ready, but once I'm buried deep inside your sweet arse I'll start sliding it in and out of you. Understood?" His fingers curled inside her and stroked that hidden bundle of nerves, sending fireworks shooting through her body.

"Fuck, yes," She sighed, eyes fluttering shut while the combined assault of their hands in her heat kept her high.

Just as she was about to tumble over, Killian stilled both of their hands and she mewled in complaint. "Am I to assume that other tube holds a special lubricant for…"? His metal appendage slid between her cheeks and ran over her puckered opening briefly; leaving her to sigh at the contact and shift her hips backwards to him.

"Ahh, Killian…"

"Answer me, darling. Answer me so I can give you what you need." His hand moved both of their fingers out of her slightly and she groaned at the loss.

"Yes! It's for you to lube up my ass for your cock! Please, Killian!"

She heard him chuckle "Good girl" under his breath, and then Killian's fingers pulled their hands away from her and pushed the vibrator inside her, stretching her blissfully and moving over the sweet spot deep inside. He eased the device in and out of her several times before settling it to the hilt and pressing the 'on' button.

A thousand white lights shot behind her eyelids when the vibrations started, and Emma didn't try to stop the cries that escaped her throat. She just ducked her head down to the mattress and lifted her ass further into the air and Killian's waiting fingers.

His thumb rubbed soothing circles around her rear entrance, urging her to relax with his ministrations. As wonderfully distracted as she was by her vibrator, the chill of Killian thumbing more lubricant around and just inside her brown ring sent more shivers through her, making her more aware of what was to come.

"Easy there, Swan. Just breathe, that's it." It helped listening to the low timbre of his voice. That lilting accent pouring out his sweet words soothed her until she was putty and made it easier to relax her muscles. So when he moved a whole finger inside and started pumping it in and out of her, slowly so she had time to adjust, it was a welcome and entirely pleasing sensation. Combined with the vibration of her toy deep within her, it brought her right to the edge of her pleasure, holding her prisoner there under Killian's control. He was the master of her fate in this moment, and the notion of being at his mercy like this made her moan aloud and grip the sheets in anticipation.

By the time he added a second, and eventually a third finger, Emma was shaking from sensory overload, desperate to finish once more before he took her.

Killian seemed to sense her need and reached his hook around, rubbing the cool metal against her clit in heavy circles. It was all she needed to come, and she sobbed his name into the mattress and rutted her hips incoherently in every direction her pleasure was coming from, not knowing where to go to reach for it but knowing she had to just _move_ to find it.

While she came down from her high he eased the pace of his fingers, removing them one at a time, and turned off the vibrator before removing that too. Emma was tempted to collapse onto the mattress but knew the main event was about to come.

She heard a squirt that was likely from the lubricant tube and suddenly felt the tip of Killian's length, covered in more of the chilly lube, lined up with her rear entrance.

Emma wiggled against him and heard his intake of breath. "Just get in me, pirate." She felt his chuckle as he slid inside her, painfully slow.

Killian had done a good job of preparing her, but Emma still felt like she was being speared in two. Bolts of sensation ran up and down her spine and she fought to relax her muscles, knowing it would be easier and far better if she did. Instead she concentrated on the vibrator that Killian was currently sliding back inside her heat. He took his time with both of her entrances, checking her reaction before moving more deeply into either, until finally he and the toy were fully seated in her.

"Gods, Swan, you magnificent creature. So bloody tight!"

Emma could only moan in response, her mind as full of sensation as she was physically with Killian. The combined pleasure and pain was incredible, and Emma thought she could die happy in that moment. He hadn't even started moving yet and she already felt used in the best way. She didn't think the feeling could get anymore magnificent until he turned the vibrator back on, and watched her loose herself to bliss.

"Fuck. So full, Killian I'm so fucking full. Please! Need you to- Oh God!" Killian started moving. He thrust in and out of her rear entrance slowly and in time with his thrusts of her vibrator in her core, holding her hips against him with his hooked arm.

"Fuck, love. Can feel that damn vibrator through you. So good!"

"Ahh! Killian!"

They came to their peaks quickly, and this time Killian did not seem content to let Emma straddle the edge for too long. He wanted to see her shatter under him, wanted her to come apart around him, gripping him like a vice as he moved inside her.

Eventually, Emma realized he had lost his grip on the vibrator, leaving it buried deep inside her to stretch and vibrate her inner walls in favor of quickening the pace of his hips against her.

His fingers moved to her clit, rubbing it to give her the final push. Just as before, the stimulation was too much and she came hard against the sheets, crying out his name in relief before collapsing slightly onto her arms. Killian continued to thrust against her, his hips sputtering as his release came to him. When he finished, his hips slowing their movements after the high, some of his release dripped down Emma's thighs and onto the bed sheets.

Both of their breathing was ragged and they struggled to untangle from each other. She groaned at the soreness now present as he pulled out her, first from her ass, then turning off the vibrator and taking that out too.

The pair collapsed onto the mattress together, Killian lying half on top of her, half spooning her, and Emma curled back into the warmth of him. They both knew they would start to get chilly soon, but neither wanted to unfurl from the warmth of the other's body to reach for the blanket. They were too caught up in post-coital awe and bliss.

"You are a wonder, Emma." Killian's lips praised her ears and her skin, trailing down her throat to her shoulder and back up again. "An absolute wonder." Emma could only sigh, content with the morning and the moment.

Several minutes later, just as Emma was about to drift off to sleep, she remembered.

"Hey Killian?"

"Hmm?"

"We still gotta wash these sheets."


	6. Dough and Ashes

**Apologies on the delay in updates for this collection! I've been busy plotting/writing the first few parts of a multi-chapter adventure fic starring Henry Mills on his own quest in the Enchanted Forest with Mulan (bc I miss her and Henry deserves a little adventure too). The fic is called Forest of Worth. Check it out! **

**In the meanwhile though, I was feeling domestic today and decided to bake something chocolaty, which led to this little nugget of inspiration. **

**Killian vs. the oven/baking/modern cooking. Mild fluff toward the end. **

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A putrid burning smell filled the kitchen of the Charming's apartment and Killian cursed his way to the oven. His hook pulled the oven door open and he braced himself for the onslaught of ash and failure that lay helplessly before him in unrecognizable clumps on the baking sheet.

"Bloody hell, not again."

Was it really too much for him to want to bake something edible for Emma Swan? He could fend for himself in the Enchanted Forest, fish off his ship or cook over a fire as need be, but the devices and appliances littered throughout the kitchens of this realm were beyond any reasonable understanding without proper tutelage.

He sighed heavily in defeat, his gloved hand taking hold of the baking tray, ready to toss the latest batch of burnt dough into the garbage bin. Perhaps he should have simply _asked_ for help instead of trying to do this on his own, but for once the apartment was empty and no one would be back for the remainder of the afternoon. It was a rare window of opportunity that Killian refused to waste.

It had taken several weeks of subtle observation and light questioning, but Killian thought he had a decent handle on the concept of modern cooking techniques, at least enough to bake a batch of those bloody chocolate chip cookies Emma seemed so fond of. Mary Margaret wasn't the easiest person to nonchalantly follow in the kitchen, with the way she flitted effortlessly between bowls of dessert batter and main courses and appetizers all while entertaining her infant son. There were several times he was certain the princess knew what he was up to when he asked a particularly specific question and her eyes narrowed in consideration. If she had figured it out, she held her tongue.

He had watched the woman use the electric mixer and the oven countless times. Had seen the exact buttons she pressed to turn them on and off and even control the speed of the mixer and set the oven's timer. As far as he could tell they were the only two unfamiliar items he needed for this endeavor.

He certainly wasn't at a loss for ingredients. David had been hell-bent since his son's birth to take as few trips to collect food each week as possible, lest he somehow miss a key milestone in the infant's life. His effort resulted in the apartment being nearly overrun by crates of eggs, mountains of flour and sugar, frozen vegetables, and a near endless supply of coffee and chocolate chips, among other essentials.

It was even easier finding the recipe Mary Margaret used. He was confident in his observation skills and memory but he wanted this done right, and that meant following the bloody instructions. The book was always laid out on the kitchen counter from constant use, and was covered in the remnants of meals past. The page with the cookie recipe was spattered in streaks of something brown and spicy smelling mixed with what had to be the sugary sweetness of honey. How those ingredients came to fall on a page completely unrelated to them was one mystery Killian had no need to solve.

Combining all the ingredients together had been a strange but ego boosting lesson in using the electric mixer. He was immensely happy at having mastered the device. The thought of having to mix the ingredients with one hand while holding the bowl balanced in his hooked arm had weighed on him when he thought the electric mixer might be out of his reach. So even though some of the dough now painted the wall of the kitchen from when he turned the mixer on too high, and a good spattering now covered his face and the apron he had borrowed from Mary Margaret, for the most part it had remained obediently in the bowl.

Perhaps that was where his false sense of confidence had originated. The relative ease with which he had mastered the electric mixer made him cocky in using the oven and led to his current downfall.

Ovens were hardly a new concept to Killian or anyone from the Enchanted Forest. What was strange about the contraptions here was the idea of being able to so minutely control everything about the inside of the cooking space. There were lights that could be turned on and off inside, a temperature control that required nothing but the push of a button, and no obvious fire as a heat source. When he tried to ask Mary Margaret how the blasted thing worked she had pointed to several coils lining the wall of the oven, and spoke of how the heat collected in there and radiated into the closed space of the oven.

Well of course it bloody did, it was an oven. But how was it so finely controlled? The temperature could be held within a matter of tens of degrees without fear of changing.

She didn't have an answer for him.

The dough that hadn't gone spiraling from the bowl yielded four trays of cookies, but for some bloody reason Mary Margaret had seen fit to cross out the recommended time and temperature for cooking the treats in the book and Killian couldn't for the life of him decipher what was written underneath the black ink of her pen. So he decided to try one tray at a time in the hopes that at least one of them would turn out edible.

The first tray was decidedly undercooked, so he placed it back in the oven and turned up the temperature. But after another round in said oven the dough turned crispy and too dark. He tried not let it bother him, told himself he knew it wouldn't be as easy as Mary Margaret seemed to make it look, and that he had three whole trays left to experiment with.

The second tray was put in for a few minutes less than the first, at the same temperature, but yielded the same black ashen monstrosities. So into the garbage bin they went to join their predecessors.

The third and most recent tray was put in for even less time but yielded charcoal blobs instead of entirely crisp wafers. He dared to taste one of them before throwing them out. It was black and burnt on the outside, but still doughy and uncooked within.

Killian had never known such a thing to be possible when baking or cooking. Perhaps it was an ailment found only in this realm's kitchens.

By now the entire apartment stank of charcoal and Killian was tempted to open a window to let some air in. Hopefully it would clear the stench from the room before Emma and her parents returned from their walk. He only had one tray left and he would not let it go to waste. He lowered the oven temperature, and vowed to check the dough every minute to see if they were ready.

It was after fifth oven check that he swore he heard muffled voices coming up the stairs and Killian panicked.

Bloody hell, it was too soon! They were all supposed to be on their forest walk for another hour at least!

Killian was as much of a right mess as the kitchen and the apartment still reeked of ash and his culinary failures. He didn't want to be caught in such an embarrassing state but knew it would be foolish and cowardly to hide whilst his efforts were discovered.

And the last batch of dough wasn't even done yet! So there was nothing but burnt lumps to show for his efforts thus far.

"Does anyone else smell that?" Killian recognized Henry's worried voice even through the thick door.

"I'm sure it's nothing. Might be a neighbor cooking something. Yes they are! They're all cooking dinner and soon we'll be cooking dinner too!" Mary Margaret's placation quickly turned into cooing her infant, who was no doubt being bounced in his mother's arms at that exact moment.

The voices came closer, and he heard a key slip into the lock. Killian watched in horror from where he stood next to the oven as the doorknob slowly twisted open. The Charmings waltzed casually into their apartment, flanked by Emma and Henry, baby Neal gurgling from his mother's arms as she excitedly talked to him.

Each stopped short when they caught sight of Killian standing helplessly in the kitchen, his eyes wide and fearful. Caught under the scrutiny of four pairs of eyes gaping at him he was at a loss for words and opened and shut his mouth in the hope that something would come out.

"Swan," He squeaked. Gods above, he was Captain bloody Hook, he did _not_ squeak. Why did the first thing out of his mouth have to be squeak? "You're back early?"

"Were you… baking?" Henry asked. Killian couldn't place the look in the lad's eyes, or anyone else's eyes for that matter. Whether it was awe or pity in those depths, he didn't want to. Didn't want to linger on their gazes if there was even a remote possibility of disappointment or anger in them.

Mary Margaret's was the only face he could read at that moment. Her eyes were bright with mirth and comprehension. She had known exactly what he was up to the past few weeks. Knew what his questions and glances to the kitchen were in preparation for. The ghost of a smile gracing her lips was one of amusement but approval, and he felt the tiniest bit of tension leave him.

"This is why you didn't want to come on the walk this afternoon," Emma whispered, meeting his eyes with green orbs that never failed to captivate him. It was said with such softness that Killian didn't know what to make of it. Was she disappointed he was wasting her parent's food on a burnt disaster? Did she think him foolish for trying to go it alone in one of her realm's kitchens? It would have been one thing if he had a batch of cookies ready for her, but all he had was a mess and complete fiasco laid out for her and her parents perusal.

Emma said nothing, her face unreadable as she marched forward toward him with purposeful strides. Killian stepped back against the counter, ready to face a verbal assault about wasting food and how stupid it was of him to try and do this himself when all he had to do was ask for help. Nothing could have prepared him for Emma pressing herself fully against him, throwing her arms around his neck, and kissing him for everything he was worth.

He gasped in surprise and she took the chance to tilt their heads and dive her tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his in a brief but delightful sword fight. On instinct he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, lost in the feel of her and the sheer relief that she wasn't angry with him. Kissing him like this had to be a good thing because it certainly _felt_ like a good thing.

He moaned into her mouth when her tongue brushed against the roof of his mouth and pulled her impossibly closer, ready to move his hand under her jacket-

"Ahem!" They sprang apart, faces bright red as David glared at them with look that could have struck Killian dead. Killian was still dazed from the sudden kiss but Emma was surprisingly unapologetic, biting her lips and making it very difficult for Killian to keep from puling her into his arms again. Emma never was one for such bold public displays, especially in front of her parents and Henry, not that Killian was complaining; the spontaneity was most welcome.

David's face was still annoyed, Mary Margaret was smiling gleefully, and Henry looked just a little confused. Killian caught Emma's eyes and the pure astonishment and glee he saw there was enough to let him know she was more than happy to have walked in on him like this. That she was happy to find him doing something like this for her.

Silence continued to fill the room for several moments, and it was Mary Margaret who spoke first.

"Killian, is that another tray in the oven? Why don't you pull it out and we'll see what you've got so far."


	7. Shipper

**Reviewer prompt, Killian watches Pirates of the Caribbean. Sorry this took so long to get out. The mind has been more preoccupied than the muse can handle of late, but all is well and under control again. If you've never seen Pirates of the Caribbean, any of them, be warned that there are major spoilers ahead for those movies, particularly the first, but also general bits about the later movies. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT or Pirates of the Caribbean.**

**As always, read/review/leave a prompt!**

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Without the presence of an immediate crisis or villain, Emma and Killian had fallen into an evening weekend routine of alcohol and Netflix. Some nights it was a beer and an action flick, others a drinking game and a comedy, and on some rare occasions she could get him to sit through a romance with a glass of wine (She thought he was willing to put up with The Notebook and Pride & Prejudice because they gave him ideas to use on her.).

Henry had mentioned earlier in the week that Killian's guyliner and several of his mannerisms reminded him of Jack Sparrow, and Killian had been eager to learn what Henry meant by that. So tonight's combination of choice was rum and a pirate movie, specifically Pirates of the Caribbean, Curse of the Black Pearl.

The rum had been Emma's idea. Even though it was beyond cliché she insisted on keeping with the theme. Killian had given her an odd look when she suggested it. "Theme?" He asked. "Is rum as common among the dashing rapscallions of this world as mine?" She simply shrugged and took the whole bottle with her to the couch, saying they could pass it between them instead of having to deal with glasses.

He settled into the couch next to her, throwing his hooked arm over her shoulders and letting her lean against him while he searched for the movie. Killian had gotten fairly adept at using the remote to navigate the Netflix screen and search for films and TV shows, even though Emma usually had to help spell out odd-lettered titles ("Pursuit of Happiness with a 'y' Swan? What is this world's education like that such a gross misspelling is so known?"). It always brought a smile to her face to see him so seamlessly interacting with aspects of her world.

When the movie's info screen popped up, her pirate took one look at the movie poster of Johnny Depp in full Jack Sparrow costume, and burst out laughing. "That is perhaps the most elaborate facial hair I've ever laid eyes on in 300 years! A braided and beaded beard, bloody hell, that's ridiculous!"

"Oh come on, you must've seen it all in 300 years. Didn't you ever have a beaded dreadlock phase?"

Killian scoffed at that. "Several of my crew did. It's those beard beads that are mind-boggling. My hair was well-kept during my Naval days, and even after I cut the ponytail off-"

"Back up. You had a ponytail?"

Confusion filled his features, and he took a swig of rum from the bottle. "I take it by your tone ponytails on men are bad, or at least a rarity in this realm."

"Depends on the guy. They're a big step above perms and waxed mustaches though. Now play the movie, pirate."

He was quiet at first, but once the young versions of Will Turner and Elizabeth Swan were face to face on the ship deck, Killian piped in, "They're meant to end up together at the end of this, aren't they?"

Emma stiffened next to him and she knew he noticed. "Why um, do you say that?" She didn't want to spoil it for him, obvious or not, but the movie had only just started. How could he have a theory about the ending already?

"I've seen enough of your world's movie stories to recognize the pattern, Swan. Wait a moment, if that Elizabeth lass is the Governor's daughter…" Killian went quiet for a moment, and then glanced excitedly between Emma and the screen. "Swan… E. Swan!"

"What?"

"You're E. Swan! And so is she! She's E. Swan too! There's a proverbial princess named E. Swan in a story about pirates!"

"Huh, well that's something." Killian looked at her incredulously, silently saying 'It's only your bloody name and you just noticed?' But he did little more than shake his head at her, muttering "unbelievable" under his breath.

When it came time for Captain Jack Sparrow's entrance, Emma thought Killian would be glued to the screen in elation and laugh with her at Sparrow's antics and quirks. Instead he shrugged and smirked a little. "He seems an entertaining fellow. Quite the character."

Emma turned to him. "That's it? Captain Jack Sparrow makes a dramatic entrance and he's just entertaining? I kinda thought you'd be a bigger Sparrow fan. You're both dead clever and can talk your way out of anything."

"Is that a bad thing he's not my favorite? I've certainly no reason to dislike him as yet. We do seem to share a great many traits."

"No, no, it's just surprising is all. Do you have a different favorite so far?"

He didn't hesitate in his answer. "So far, aye, that Turner lad. He seems a good and honorable man."

Of course, Emma realized. It made more sense for Killian to like Will Turner as a character than Jack Sparrow. He probably saw a lot of his pirate self in Captain Sparrow, between the rum, hunt for revenge, and clever schemes, and apparently Henry saw it too, but it was Will Turner that reminded Killian of how he used to be back in his more reputable Naval days. Turner was what Killian felt he'd lost when he became a pirate and sought his own vengeance.

Jack Sparrow was how the world saw Killian. Will Turner was who he aspired to be again.

Emma was more fixated on the meaning behind Killian's choice in favorite character than he was though. She was pulled from her musings by Killian commenting excitedly on the movie again. "Lass, look at that! With the rafters and that footwork. It's a bit fantastical but _that's_ a swordfight!" He took another drink of rum and let out a laugh when the blacksmith knocked Sparrow unconscious with a bottle in an anticlimactic finish to such a flurried melee.

Killian's shiver at the sight of the Black Pearl's zombified crew had Emma trembling and suddenly remembering just how creepy looking they really were. "That may be some of the most grisly curse magic I've ever seen, Swan. Remind me again how it isn't real?"

She smiled, curled into him further, and drank from the rum bottle before passing it back to him. "Animation, buddy. Just lots and lots of really sophisticated animation."

"Sophisticated meaning you don't quite understand it fully yourself?"

Emma tried to look offended but failed. "I get the gist of it! There's computers and these artists do things with the computers…"

His eyes were bright with amusement. "Swan, is it wrong of me that I'm relieved you have trouble understanding some aspects of your world too? Because I must say, love, it's actually quite inspiring."

"Parley? How the bloody hell does she know parley if she isn't a pirate? Is the Pirate's Code common knowledge in this world? And I'm still not sure about this Barbossa and his monkey."

"Wait, is there actually a Pirate's Code?"

He tensed and his blue eyes stared suspiciously unblinking at the screen. "I'm afraid I couldn't say love."

"Is this one of those, 'the first rule of fight club is not to talk about fight club' things?"

"Fight club?"

Scarlet and Giselle had just slapped the sass out of Jack Sparrow on Tortuga and if Emma hadn't been curled around Killian as tightly as she was she would never have caught his muttered comment. "My sympathies, but you brought that on yourself mate."

"Now I know they're taking us for fools. Sea turtles and human hair?" Killian scoffed at Gibb's telling of Sparrow's daring escape from being marooned on the island.

"It's a fantasy movie, Killian. You're not supposed to take it too seriously."

"Human hair from his back though? I'm a tried and true survivor Swan, but that's bloody disgusting. Clearly my favorite Mr. Turner shares my skepticism though, so I can rest easy knowing he is no gullible loon."

"Gullible loon? Seriously?"

When it was eventually revealed that Sparrow had indeed made up the fantastical account of his harrowing escape Killian whooped excitedly. "Ha! Didn't I say Swan? Turner and I are indeed of a shared mind. Sea turtles and human hair, what complete nonsense."

"Says the man who infused Pan's shadow into his ship's sails so we could all fly away from Neverland."

"Does Turner become a pirate in the end?" Killian asked. Despite his questioning tone he gave her a knowing, if somewhat glazed, look. A good portion of the rum was buzzing pleasantly through Emma and Killian's veins, and while it did nothing to dampen Killian's talkativeness, Emma was finding it hard to keep a straight face when he made predictions about the end of the movie. Also, she had a hard time deciding if it was the rum or Killian's closeness that made her want to curl so impossibly close to him.

"Let's just 'hic' watch him find Elizabeth in the cave first." If she could just keep her eyes on the screen instead of the warm body she was wrapped around maybe she could save Killian from any more spoilers.

"So he does turn? I rather hope I'm wrong about that. And this knocking Sparrow unconscious when he's only trying to help, it seems eerily familiar darling. But between being hit in the head with an oar or that giant's compass I think I'd have preferred the oar. Fewer sharp edges."

"We were fighting by a dried up lake and it's what I had available! And you were being all, _you_, with your innuendos and how I'd feel it when you jabbed me with your sword."

His eyes caught hers in a predatory stare. "And haven't you, love?"

The deep flush spreading on her cheeks was all the answer he needed and Emma was sorely tempted to take another drink from the rum bottle in her hand just to distract herself. He took a moment to stare at her further, watching the blush creep down her neck, before turning abruptly back to the movie.

"Barbossa does a have a point about Turner's lack of specificity. He never did say when or where Elizabeth was supposed to be released," Killian noted. "Nor did Elizabeth make any such specifications when she first went aboard the Black Pearl."

"Is looking for loopholes an essential skill for all pirates or is Barbossa just being manipulative?"

"Loopholes can turn the tide of an unfavorable agreement. Any pirate who's survived long enough will tell you the same thing."

She stared at him in awe for a moment. "You'd be a good lawyer," She decided.

"Haha, clearly Sparrow has his 'priorities' in order. I might've been just as concerned about the rum being gone as he. But Elizabeth, now there's a lass with her head on straight. She didn't accept defeat. No, she built a signal flare. Not one to take anything lying down, I see."

Emma handed him the rum bottle and wrapped her arms around his waist. "She gets more awesome later," She said, forgetting her intentions of staying spoiler-free.

"Ghastly as those undead sailors are, that curse of theirs seems rather handy."

"Well they don't have to worry about scurvy, I guess."

He laughed at that. "I meant the walking underwater bit, very helpful for a sneak attack on those naval ships. I'd have half a mind to do the same were I in Barbossa's position."

"So you would listen to Jack Sparrow and not break the curse you've been trying to break for however many years because you want to stay immortal just a little bit longer to take out a bunch of navy ships. Does this mean you're more sure about Barbossa than before?"

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow. And while I'll admit he's a far more shrewd man than many of the pirates I've dealt with, I'm still a tad perplexed about the undead monkey."

"Fanciful as this film is, Swan, I'm enjoying all these fights. It's rather like watching a very detailed and gruesome sparring session." She could see the excitement in his eyes as they flitted across the screen trying to keep up with the action, but there was also tightness to his jaw that Emma recognized.

It was always interesting to watch Killian's face during the many fight scenes or more action-filled sequences. His whole body would tense and relax in time with the safety of the characters and she felt his arm tighten more noticeably around her. She let herself move impossibly closer to him every time he did.

He sometimes muttered comments about the fighters' techniques under his breath. "Good form," He would say, or "poor choice mate," and "I'll have to try that." Emma suspected his involvement was because he was still growing used to the idea that the movies were just images, not real. While it was probably easier for him to grasp the concept of moving images when the characters were just talking or doing something bland and normal, an action scene was entirely different. Those scenes meant to get normal audiences excited, but they were probably more heart pumping for Killian because he had lived through so many moments like those. He might have had to remind himself that the scenes playing out before him weren't real and he wasn't in any actual danger, no matter how much they reminded him of fights and battles long past.

"Glad you're liking it so far. And Elizabeth is totally right. Corsets are instruments of torture," Emma said, shivering at the memory of the corset she had worn during her and Killian's stint to the Enchanted Forest of the past, and the painful impression the garment had made on her spleen.

"I'll say it again love. That discomfort is a cross I'm willing to bear." She caught his heated gaze on her chest and raised an eyebrow at him. He met her eyes and returned the quirked brow, flashing her a lecherous grin that made her breath quicken, which only caused her chest to rise and fall more rapidly, to his obvious delight.

It took Emma several moments to tear herself from his heated stare so she could finish watching Jack, Elizabeth, and Will fight Barbossa and his men. But she still felt the heat rolling off of him and the way his arm tightened a fraction around her, pulling her closer.

"I'll never understand your realm's fascination with putting pirates in impractically large, feathered hats. First there was that cartoon version of myself that you showed me, then Barbossa and his feathered cap, and now Turner's gone and worn one."

Emma chuckled. "I've seen a couple of Regina's old Evil Queen outfits. There were some pretty big hats there too."

"Clothing for the nobility was hardly about practicality, love. I can assure you, there are no such frivolities among the rapscallions of the Enchanted Forest."

She nodded, and was quiet for a moment, before admitting, "Turner looks pretty good in that hat though."

Killian groaned, embarrassed, in agreement. "Bloody hell, I want that hat. Practicality be damned."

The credits started to roll but Killian and Emma hadn't moved from where they were currently wrapped around each other. The two were still pleasantly buzzed and Emma found her hands had at some point started to run along Killian's side without her realizing. Rum sometimes made her just a little handsy, but only when she was around Killian (She had several guesses as to why that was). He didn't seem to mind though. His own hand had long since placed the mostly empty rum bottle to stand on the floor in favor of drumming his fingers along her arm.

"Lifestyle inaccuracies and realm differences aside, I did enjoy that greatly, love."

"Really?"

"Truly." His blue eyes suddenly took on a sparkling gleam. "And might I remind you once again that I was indeed right about Turner and his E. Swan? Did I not correctly predict they were meant to be in the first minutes of the movie?"

"You did, you did. You got it Sherlock. Good deduction skills."

"Sherlock, that detective from last weekend's viewing? I'm clever Swan, but I'm no great puzzle solver. Or murder investigator."

"No, but you are a pirate. In fact, you're _my_ pirate." Emma knew it was the rum that was making her more brazen, but being wrapped around Killian for the better part of two hours was definitely a big factor in what she did next.

She leaned up and kissed him, slow and sweet, bringing a hand up to his neck to play with the sensitive hairs at the base. For all the boldness the rum in her veins was making her feel, the kiss started off simply, lips moving other lips, the movie credits droning in the background. When Killian moved his hand to angle her head back the kiss deepened. He nipped at her mouth and she moaned at the contact, opening her mouth to his questing tongue.

Emma pulled him backward on the couch until he was lying on top of her, moving both her arms around his neck as he wrapped his hooked arm more fully around her waist. Their lips continued to taste each other, unhurried, as Emma shifted her legs open to cradle him. She felt the ridge of him through her jeans, growing hard and thick and rubbing deliciously against her. Her legs lifted on their own to lock around his waist, changing the angle and bringing him closer.

He groaned low in his throat at the contact, the rumble of his chest vibrating through her and sending heat straight to her core. Killian pressed his hips forward against her center and held still, keeping up the pressure for as long as he chose before pulling his hips away briefly then bringing them back together in a slow rutting motion.

Her lips left his mouth and found the skin of his throat, ghosting up and down before settling on a particularly sensitive spot by his ear that had him trembling delightfully against her. Killian's hand continued to knead the muscles of her neck and tug at her hair as he whispered praises in her ear, some serious and some more humorously related to the movie, which made her shake with laughter against him. He described to her in no shortage of detail how beautiful she was, how caring, and brave, but he also called her his pirate princess, and told her his treasure wasn't cursed and she could plunder him anytime if she wanted to find out for herself. He punctuated the praise with a kiss or another rut of their hips together, leaving her happily breathless and content.

Emma had no clue how long they stayed like that, just reveling in the feel of each other. Their hands were entwined in each other's hair, lips moving lazily over skin, and slowly rocking their hips against each other, building up that delicious pressure without succumbing to the fall. It was as her own hands were venturing down the back of his shirt, eager to feel the whipcord muscle of his back she'd come to know so well, that she noticed the music coming from the TV and that it was decidedly different than the movie credit music.

Killian must have noticed her brief pause, because he pulled his head back from her and lifted himself onto one elbow to glance at the screen.

"Swan, is the movie playing again?"

"No, that looks like the start of the sequel actually."

Killian's face lit up like Christmas. "There are more?" His voice was so full of blissful wonder she couldn't help but laugh a little at his delight.

"Yeah, there are three more movies."

Blue eyes moved between her and the movie, clearly torn between continuing to neck her on the couch and watching what was obviously one of his new favorite movie franchises so far. She laughed again. "Let's keep watching for a bit, ok? We don't have to finish them all tonight but we can see how far we get."

Killian smiled at her, then grabbed a pillow that had fallen to the floor and started arranging it under Emma's head.

"Um, Killian?"

"Just making sure you stay comfortable darling," He grinned cheekily before wrapping both of his arms around her waist, settling his head on her chest, and turning to watch the movie. "I'm quite content to stay where I am, thank you very much."

After the third movie was finished, it was some time past 2am and Killian nudged Emma awake. She'd fallen asleep sometime after Tia Dalma gave Sparrow a jar of dirt to ward off Davy Jones in the second movie. "Swan, I've changed my mind," He said.

"Hmm? 'Bout what?" Her voice was already groggy with sleep and she nuzzled her nose into Killian's hair, intent on sinking into the heat of his body and drifting back into her dreams.

"My favorite character. I've changed my mind. Sparrow's a delight, Turner's a good man, and Barbossa's shrewd, but Elizabeth is my favorite."

"Why's-at?" She mumbled, only half coherent.

He ran a finger down her cheek, brushing aside the stray hairs that had fallen there. "Because she reminds me of you. Graceful, a little pirate in her, and willing to do whatever it takes to make sure her loved ones are safe. Not to mention you both cut quite the figure in red dresses."

"Mmm, good answer."


End file.
